


Fingers Might Talk

by EventHorizon



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Friendship/Love, M/M, New Year's Eve, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-06 23:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1112779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EventHorizon/pseuds/EventHorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lestrade asks for and receives lessons in sign language from Mycroft, which leads to a nice trip to the pub after an afternoon of instruction... and more lessons mean more time to get to know each other...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fingers Might Talk

**Author's Note:**

> This story began as a quick little one-off on [my tumblr](http://eventhorizon451.tumblr.com) for a prompt about Greg wanting to learn sign language for his job. Since it's December 31, ending it on a New Year's Eve note just seemed the right thing to do...

      “Blimey, Mycroft!  My fingers aren’t pasta noodles!”

      “Watch again, Gregory.   I shall do it a bit slower this time.”

      “That’s not the problem… I can see what you’re doing and I can follow it, no problem.  It’s just these great sausages I’ve got on the ends of my hands can’t tangle up that way.”

      “I can assure you that a vast number of individuals have mastered sign language and I would assume that a notable percentage of them had fingers sized and shaped quite similarly to yours.  They are not in any way unwieldy.”

      “Says the man fingers as long as… bloody long fingers!”

      “Such a tone.  Covet not my phalanges, Detective Inspector.”

      “You and Sherlock, both.  He reaches for the knob and it takes five minutes for the rest of him to make it to the door.”

      “They _did_ benefit him greatly with his music.”

      “I can imagine.  And I’m sure John’s glad he listened to me and believed what his eyes were telling him.”

      “Am I supposed to understand that?”

      “Nah, just a bit of a joke when we were out one night.  We were a little… ok, more than a little pissed and started looking at hands and shoes because… well, you know why.  And I told him that I could verify that it was 100% true for Sherlock.  Saw that lanky bastard bare-arsed often enough when he was high to last many traumatized lifetimes.  Actually, I think John bet me a pint and he has _never_ made good on that, cheap little prick.”

      “My understanding has not improved.”

      “Come on, Mycroft… you know what they say about the size of a man’s hands and feet?”

      “No, I don’t believe I do.”

      “Big hands, big feet, big…”

      “Why are you pointing at your groin …oh.”

      “Now you got it!”

      “I say… I had not heard that particular comparison before.”

      “Went to the wrong school, I guess.  It’s a fun game to play with a mate at the pub when you’re at that point on the drunk spectrum where you’re rating the _other_ drunks according to who you’d shag first.”

      “Good heavens, that sounds… surreal.”

      “Hah!  I tell you what, you and me… we’ll go… oh, I’ve got the perfect place… and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

      “I… you are most kind to offer, but… you said you indulged in this little amusement with… I believe you used the phrase ‘a mate.’ “

      “Exactly!  That’s why it’ll be fun.  Me and you having a pint or seven and filling the roster for our Fantasy Friday Fuckfest.”

      “Oh.”

      “Something wrong?”

      “No, actually.  I am simply surprised that you would desire my company in such a manner.  I supposed I had not given any thought to the nature of our relationship.”

      “Why do you think I came to you to learn sign language, Mycroft?  Could’ve taken a class, you know, but you’re my mate so I knew you’d step up and get me sorted.”

      “I… thank you, Gregory.  I am honored to be considered your friend and I hope you accept my friendship in return.”

      “Already done.  Now since it _is_ Friday and we’re nearly done here, how about you get your brolly and we hit the town.  Drinks on me.”

      “That sounds most agreeable.  I do have a question; however.”

      “Ok…”

      “I assume that if we are playing our little anatomical game, others are likely to be playing it, too, correct?”

      “Oh, that is a _sure_ bet.”

Mycroft looked down at his hands, with his _very_ long fingers.

      “I believe I shall also get my gloves.”

__________

      “Great!  It’s busy.  Lots of fun to be had.  This is a nice pub, too.  Gets a lot of business from the legal types, so you don’t have to worry about fights breaking out over darts.  Usually.”

      “I place my full faith in your selection, Gregory.  Ah, there is a booth opening…”

      “Perfect!  Best place to set up out tents and settle in for awhile.  Uh oh, competitors moving in on the right.”

      “One moment…”

<…………..>

      “That umbrella really is more than decoration, isn’t it?  Fucking ninja weapon, that thing is.”

      “In the proper hands.  Now, what is the appropriate beverage to enjoy while, as they say, people watch.”

      “Anything large and cheap.  And I _will_ be getting something greasy to eat, too, so you’re going to have to expose yourself and lose the gloves if you want to share.”

      “Hmmmm… my personal attributes on display to the masses or a few nibbles of imminent heart failure.  What am I to decide?”

      “Tosser.  Just don’t give me your sad-puppy eyes when I’m munching on a big platter of fried who-knows-what and you realize the enormity of your error in judgment.”

      “I am genetically incapable of affecting the so-called _sad-puppy_ eyes.”

      “Your arse must be smoking, because your pants are definitely on fire.”

      “Pardon?”

      “I’ve _seen_ you make them.”

      “You are quite mistaken.”

      “John’s birthday.”

      “Oh, has that occurred?  I have no memory of the event.”

      “That you actually have your job anymore amazes me since you’re a terrible liar.”

      “I am a highly-skilled liar, Gregory.  I simply choose to employ the breadth of my talent when more critical matters arise.”

      “Pfft.  And you did make sad-puppy eyes when I grabbed the last of Mrs. Hudson’s special birthday biscuits and I had to give it up or lose my soul.”

      “My poor man, for how long have you suffered from misperceptions of reality?  I shall make a note to speak to John to secure you a referral to the appropriate specialist for your disorder.”

      “Pfft.  And another one because you’re worth it. Pfft.”

      “I do feel rather special at the moment.”

      “Just drink your drink and wash that smugness right down your gullet.  And yes!  I’ve got the first slot on my roster filled.”

      “Really, do point them out… oh.  _Oh_.  I apologize, Gregory, however I believe I must exercise governmental privilege and confiscate your choice.”

      “You can’t do that!”

      “I will file the appropriate paperwork with a special national security endorsement.  I assure you, he now belongs to me.”

      “Fine.  But don’t blame me if all your mysterious black sedans get towed tomorrow.”

      “Excellent abuse of power.  I see you have been learning.”

      “I’ve got the world’s best teacher.  Now… right over there.  _That’s_ a tasty prospect.  I’ve got him and I swear that if you try and steal him, too, I’m going to use your tie for a napkin.”

      “Which one… ah.  That one you may keep.  I am not partial to gingers.”

      “But you _are_ one, well, when you decide to let it show.”

      “Exactly.  Why would I want any of my fantasy concubines to compromise my uniqueness?”

      “Huh… I guess you’re right.  Come to think of it, I can’t remember _ever_ trying to chat up someone with my old man’s hair.”

      “Heavens, Gregory.  Are you truly unable to verbalize a better description of your hair?  If so, I shall happily supply a suite of suitable adjectives for your use.”

      “Gimme one.  And make it sexy.”

      “Sterling.”

      “Ok.  I can go with that.  Wait… no I can’t.  Sounds like the name of a spotty public-school boy.”

      “Ashen.”

      “That’s the color people go when they’re dying.”

      “Mercuric.”

      “Nope.  Don’t know what that means.  Oh, you mean like mercury.  Can’t… kills people, not really good for a representative of the law.  You’ve got a disturbing pattern going on here, Mycroft.”

      “Argent.”

      “What?”

      “The Latin for ‘silver’ is _argentum_.  A silvery material may be referred to as argent.”

      “Huh… Greg Lestrade and his Amazingly Argent Hair.  Ok, I’m going with that from now on.”

      “I am gratified to be of service.  Of course, now...  dear me, I believe… no, I am not convinced I _do_ believe…”

      “Where?  Oh…  I’ll see your ‘dear me’ and raise you a ‘woof.’”

      “What was it you were saying about hands, Gregory?”

      “Oh god… your gloves wouldn’t even stand a _chance_ on his fingers.  Ok, mouth or arse?  Go.”

      “Of what in the world are you speaking?”

      “Come on, Mycroft do I have to spell it out for you?  Which would you prefer or, better, _where_ do you prefer?”

      “You are having a jest, correct?”

      “Nope.  You can choose ‘hand’ too, if he’s going to be too thick for full-body contact or if he looks… ok, see that guy down at the end of the bar talking to the blonde in the green dress?  Man looks like a bear.  You give him head and you’re coughing up hairballs the next day.”

      “Apparently my education has been woefully inadequate in the matter of sexual game play.”

      “I actually sort of doubt that, for the types of games you play _in_ the bedroom, that is, but quit dodging the question.  You can pick one, which is it going to be?”

      “Very well.  Feet.”

      “What!”

      “Shall I explain?”

      “I think you shall.”

      “He is a bit large for either of your first two options, especially if we postulate a single encounter for exploration.  However, an individual with such an _ample_ offering should merit an experience more unique that one’s hands.”

      “Use your feet instead.”

      “Precisely.  When placed together and with the use of, shall we say, fluid assistance, allowing one’s partner to make use of the space between the arches for their pleasure can be quite delightful.  Of course, there are variations, using toes, for example, if one is sufficiently nimble with them.”

      “You are a man of many surprises, Mycroft.  And I’m stealing that one from you.  I’ll even give you credit, right there in the middle of the whole affair…. this night of sexual reprobatery brought to you by Mr. Mycroft Holmes.  Please send thank you cards directly to 221B Baker Street and describe in detail your level of satisfaction with the experience.”

      “Since that would finalize my brother’s demise, I should likely get his affairs in order.  Again.”

      “I want his socks.  Only person I know, besides you, whose socks cost more than my whole wardrobe.  Write that down.  Greg gets Sherlock’s socks.”

      “I shall do that at my very first opportunity.  Now, I believe it is your turn.  You know your options.  Selection?”

      “That’s easy.  Mouth.”

      “Really?”

      “Uh huh.  Love ‘em that big in my mouth.”

      “I admit to being somewhat surprised with your choice.”

      “Just watch.  Hand me that spoon.  Watching… ftill atching?  And out it comes.”

      “You have no gag reflex.”

      “I have _some_ gag reflex, but I learned to send it to bed at will a long time ago.”

      “So, a gentleman of such proportions would not present you with a difficulty.”

      “Not really.  Might take a second to get things slick enough to make the trip easier, but yeah… yum.”

      “I almost feel the need to applaud.”   

      “I could sell tickets.”

      “I might actually purchase one.”

      “Nah, I’d give you a freebie.  Wait… that came out wrong.”

      “At this point I am almost willing to say it came out _correctly_.”

      “I’m not that easy, Mycroft.”

      “True, however, I do believe I know your price.”

      “Oh yeah?”

      “I believe we were discussing socks?”

      “Bastard.”

      “Silk, silk/wool depending on the season.  With your hair, I think a nice selection of charcoals and burgundies would be appropriate.”

      “ _Heartless_ bastard.”

      “Ah, my old Uni name.”

      “You do know we have to do this again, don’t you?  I’m having entirely too much fun.”

      “I find that I am in complete agreement.  After your next signing lesson?”

      “Sounds good.  Now, are you sure you won’t help me eat a platter of imminent heart failure?”

      “Perhaps a few bites.  I am quite of a mind to live dangerously for the evening.”

      “Yeah, we are _definitely_ doing this again.”

__________

      “Excellent, Gregory.  Your progress is most admirable.”

      “Thanks!  Got myself a great teacher.  It’s coming in handy, too.  Had a witness just last week who was deaf and I didn’t have to wait for an interpreter to show up to get their information.  Felt proud of myself over that one.”

      “As well you should.  It is a mark of character to strive to improve one’s skills, even if one has already reached a respectable height in one’s career.”

      “And thank you again.  You know… it’s not Friday, but I could murder a pint or eight, especially since it’s a night set aside for drinking anyway.  Want to come out with me?”

      “I hardly think the purpose of a New Year’s Eve celebration is solely the imbibing of potentially-lethal quantities of alcohol.”

      “Yes, it is.  Well, that and stuff yourself with party food.  First you have to sit there and reminisce about the shit year you’ve had and make predictions about the shit year you’re _going_ to have and then you drink away all the shit and wake up with the worst hangover of your life to start the new year off right.”

      “How positively unappealing.”

      “Oh, I’m just not describing it right.  It’s more of a ‘you have to live it’ sort of thing.  But, you must know… had to have been to a lot of New Year’s Eve parties in your life.”

      “That is true, however, they were, without exception, affairs with some connection to my responsibilities and, therefore, not the proper atmosphere for the situation you described.”

      “Oh.  You mean those fantastically posh parties with servants carrying around trays of tiny nibbles and glasses of crazy-expensive champagne and everyone’s in clothes that cost more than my flat?”

      “In sum, yes.”

      “You poor man.”

      “Something that has crossed my mind on many an occasion.”

      “Well, we have to change that.  You, Mycroft Holmes, are coming out with me and we’ll do New Year’s Eve right.  That is, if you don’t have any other plans.”

      “Actually, I do not.  I have taken to clearing my schedule for the evening when you are slotted to have a lesson as we have cultivated, if I may be so bold, an enjoyable tradition for the time after your instruction and one that is singular in my experience.  I am always quite eager to participate.”

      “Really?  Me too, just so you know.  I always keep those nights free because I know they’re already going to be booked with something fun.  I admit I was just going to find a nice pub and see in the new year alone if you were already busy but hey - looks like we’ve got ourselves New Year’s Eve plans!  And you know, we absolutely have to soldier on until midnight at least, so I hope you got a good night’s sleep last night.”

      “It is very rare I see the proverbial ‘good night’s sleep,’ however, Sherlock’s ability to hold slumber at bay is a genetic trait.”

      “Oh… that’s a shame.  But it’ll come in handy tonight, so not so much a shame for this one instance.  Shall we get started?  As it is, getting a good seat or table is going to be a fight.”

      “Of course.  I simply have to make a phone call and I shall be prepared.  May I meet you in the car?”

      “Still got scotch hidden away in that secret compartment.”

      “Most certainly.”

      “I’ll meet you in the car.”

__________

      “This is going to be great!  Nice crowd already and plenty of faces I recognize.  Now, all we have to do is find somewhere to stand for awhile until a table opens… Mycroft?”

      “Gregory?”

      “Is there a reason our usual booth is vacant when people are packed in here like rice in a takeaway container?”

      “I certainly have no idea.”

      “You still can’t lie and I’ve really been trying to give you some help with that particular failing.  Just who did you phone before we left.”

      “King Rudolf of Ruritania.”

      “I _saw_ Prisoner of Zenda, you twat.”

      “Drat.  Foiled by your extensive knowledge of classic cinema.”

      “One day, you’re going to meet someone you can’t phone call into submission.”

      “But that has already happened!  I believe I inquired just this weekend past as to your availability to, shall we say, chaperone Sherlock on the investigation he was conducting and you told me to… oh, do let me remember this properly… get stuffed.”

      “Well, feather in my cap then.”

      “To which more shall be added, I have no doubt.  Shall we take our seats?  I trust you will not forsake our small island of leisure simply because it was… negotiated.”

      “Are you crazy?  I’m thrilled!  Our own comfy booth to watch the fun and get comfortably drunk – what could be better!”

Lestrade nearly danced over to the booth and slid in like a kid, while Mycroft watched with great amusement, taking his seat in a far more dignified manner.

      “Yeah, this is the life.  And we've got plenty of time to people-watch and do our year-end reminiscing before the clock strikes next year.  What are John and Sherlock doing this year, do you know?”

      “I believe they are spending the evening at home owing to last year’s rather unfortunate debacle.”

      “Oh come on, it wasn’t so much a debacle as a lifetime’s worth of embarrassment.  For John, anyway.”

      “Not true.  The good doctor was especially pleased that his significant other had the stamina to race naked across half the city on one of the coldest nights of the year to apprehend the embezzler they were seeking.”

      “You know, I never got a good explanation of why Sherlock was naked to begin with.”

      “That reason was _why_ John was especially pleased with his evening.”

      “You mean…”

      “I do.  Apparently a ‘stake out’ can be a lonely and tedious pursuit and, according to John… things happen.”

      “Not to me, they don’t!”

      “You have my condolences.”

      “I’m going to die a lonely man.”

      “Would you like that carved on your tombstone?”

      “Can I have a nice stylish one like Sherlock got?”

      “I shall be happy to make the arrangements.”

      “Then yes.  I want that on my tombstone.  Greg Lestrade died a lonely man.  You can embellish that however you see fit.”

      “I believe a frieze of your visage would be most appropriate.”

      “It’d keep the birds from using me as a perch, that’s for sure.  Scare them right off.”

      “You are being ridiculous.  I predict your strong jaw and determined set of your lips would attract the most noble birds of prey to use you as a vantage point to site their quarry.  Most likely, it would become a regular stop on the various ornithologically-focused tourist packages.  Rest assured, you would feature in many a holiday photograph, ensuring your eternal remembrance.”

      “You’ve sold me.  Plunge in the knife and let’s get this eternal remembrance started.”

      “I think not.  I assume there is some form of ill luck associated with spending New Year’s Eve with a fresh corpse and I would prefer to avoid starting my new year off-footed.”

      “You’re probably right.  And I’d be starting mine off dead, which wouldn’t be a lot of fun.  Not much for a zombie to do on the job… body parts fall off when you’re trying to chase a suspect.  I think my hopes for promotion would be as dead as I am.”

      “An astute analysis.  Now, shall we be celebrating your revivification with champagne or our traditional order?”

      “Too early for bubbly.  Get some proper lager down first, something to eat, more lager, then we can get a bottle of champagne to pop and usher in one fresh year of lunacy when we’re getting close to zero hour.”

      “I believe that is an exceedingly acceptable plan.  I shall even remove my jacket in preparation for our relaxation.”

      “Good, you look dashing without your jacket.”

      “I do?”

      “Sure, haven’t you noticed that you get a lot of looks when you come in, but that number climbs when you slough off your jacket?  That one day you actually pushed up your sleeves because the heat was up too high… I thought I was going to have to implement crowd control procedures.”

      “Oh… no, I had not noticed.”

      “It’s understandable, I am a trained investigator, after all.  But you can’t be surprised, good-looking man like yourself…”

      “I truly… that is not a description that I believe has ever crossed my mind.”

      “Really?  It’s crossed mine.  Actually, that very first time I saw you, before I found out from Sherlock who you were, that’s exactly what I thought – there’s a very good-looking man.”

      “Truly?  Thank you, Gregory.  I shall treasure your kind words.”

      “Enough to buy the first round?”

      “Ah… thus I fall into the snare of your seduction and part ways with my wealth.”

      “Don’t worry, I’m a common lad with simple tastes.  My snare’s pretty small.”

      “Your fingers tell a different story.”

      “You have got a filthy mind, Mycroft Holmes.”

      “You are most generous with your compliments tonight, Gregory.  I find myself quite aflutter.”

      “Never let it be said I don’t treat my dates well.”

      “Oh, my fluttery feathers.”

      “Don’t worry, I’ll preen you if I have to.”

__________

      “Well, it’s getting close.  Goodbye to the old year and hello to the new.  I think it’ll be a good one.  I mean, it’ll be starting out brilliantly so that has to be an omen, right?”

      “I agree.  This has been a most splendid evening, Gregory.  I could not have asked for a more agreeable way to spend this night.”

      “I couldn’t have, either.  Actually, to tell the truth, these little post-lesson pub nights have been the most fun I’ve had in… well in a very long time.  You’re the most interesting person I know to talk to and have a wicked sense of humor.  Really… this has been a great thing and… well, I genuinely hope we can keep it up.  Maybe add on a little, a night or two extra here and there.  It’s not often I meet someone I really enjoy spending time with and… well, it’s only a suggestion.  If you have the time, of course.  Which you probably don’t, so forget I said anything.”

      “Certainly not!  I shall not forget one single word because I agree with each.  I have found our time together to be extraordinarily pleasant and would be most eager to see that time expanded upon.  I, too, have lacked opportunities to indulge in the company of someone who is exceedingly complementary to myself and that is not an opportunity I feel should be neglected.”

      “Great!  Well, that’s sorted.  And see… not even midnight yet and we already have something good planned for next year.  It’s a sign, I tell you.”

      “I do not usually subscribe to magical thinking, but in this case, I shall make an exception.  Oh… might now be a good time to order our champagne?  I believe we are quickly approaching the appointed hour.”

      “Shit!  You’re right.  This is on me, by the way.”

      “Because you always treat your dates well?”

      “That’s the Lestrade way and don’t you forget it.”

__________

      “Gregory?”

      “Hmmm?”

      “Am I misreading the environment or has the population distribution altered within the last few minutes?”

      “I have had far too much lager to understand any of that.”

      “Observe…where the dispersal was relatively homogeneous the past few hours, it now demonstrates a decidedly aggregated pattern.”

      “If you’re asking have people started to pair off, then the answer’s yes.”

      “Ah.  Why?”

      “Don’t they do this at the posh soiree’s?”

      “I believe they do, however, I am most commonly engaged in some form of discussion or debate and have failed to give it much thought.”

      “Oh, ok.  Well, everyone’s finding a partner for the big kiss.”

      “The big kiss?”

      “The one at the stroke of midnight!  You’re supposed to kiss at the stroke of midnight or your next year is going to be pretty rough.  And, the better the kiss, the better your year will be.  Some say, the better your love life will be, too.  So, if you didn’t bring your intended kissing partner, you just find someone willing for a quick midnight smooch so you each get the good luck.”

      “I believe I understand.”

      “I admit it’s pretty… why are you standing up?”

      “Waiting for you to join me.”

      “And I’m doing that why?”

      “Because I shall not drag my tie through your plate of chips to secure my New Year’s kiss.”

      “You have got to be kidding.”

      “Not at all.  On your feet, Gregory, the clock is soon to chime.”

      “There are plenty of very nice-looking gents in here, Mycroft… you could parlay a quick midnight peck into something a little more elaborate if you play your cards right.”

      “There are none present better described as a ‘very nice-looking gent’ than you, and I do wish my new year to be an exceedingly lucky one.  On your feet.”

      “Alright… but don’t blame me if your year goes to shit starting at 12:01 am.”

      “Such nonsense.  Oh, and how efficient that they are counting.  Are you prepared?”

      “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

_Three…two…one…_

Exactly on the stroke of midnight, Mycroft leaned in and pressed his lips to Lestrade’s.  It was a soft press.  A chaste one... but then there came the tingle, like tiny champagne bubbles racing through each and every nerve in their bodies.  And the warmth that chased that tingle and settled into their bones like the heat from a warm shower after a long, cold day.  Who would ever want to walk away from that warmth, so each man moved a little closer and made the kiss linger, letting it flow from a simple press to a slow and tentative exploration of lips that fit their own perfectly.  It was Mycroft who first took the kiss deeper and gently cradled Lestrade’s cheek as he let his tongue taste the spicy skin of the man who had captured his attention to the point where the world around him had simply ceased to exist.  It was only the gunfire-like pops of champagne corks that finally broke the spell, but only enough for the pair to separate slightly and gaze into each other’s eyes.

      “Wow.”

      “I concur.”

      “That was…”

      “Yes… it certainly was.”

      “You… you did say we could spend a little extra time together in the new year, right?”

      “I believe ‘little’ shall be an insufficient term for what I intend.”

      “Sounds like we’re thinking along the same lines.”

      “We generally do.”

      “You know, that’s absolutely true.  So, what do you predict I’m going to do next?”

      “Something that requires your arms situated firmly around my waist.”

      “And yours around my shoulders.”

      “You are a veritable mind-reader, Gregory.’

      “And for my next trick, I’m going to make time stand still.”

      “I heartily approve, for what I hope to accomplish is not a quick thing.”

      “Slow and sultry?”

      “Just the ticket.  We shall have other opportunities for…”

      “Fast and filthy?”

      “I simply adore your talented tongue.”

      “I’m going to take that as a challenge, just so you know.”

      “I expect no less.  Truly, this shall be a very interesting new year.”

      “It already is, Mycroft.  It already is…”


End file.
